Portfolio
by Rainy Day Woman
Summary: Yet another take on "Partings" but a very AU. Walking away from Luke Danes was agonizing, but it was probably the smartest thing Lorelai ever did.
1. Chapter 1

Portfolio

The arrival of the Harper Holden Conlan exhibition at the Boston Museum of Arts caused

quite a bit of anticipation in the art world due to the simple fact that the famed photographer

had not released a single picture in twenty years. Tickets to the exhibition were snapped up as if

Led Zeppelin had announced a reunion tour. Conlan, whose penchant for privacy could only be

rivaled by the likes of J. D. Salinger, was often compared to Diane Arbus and Henri Cartier-

Bresson for the unrelenting surrealism of his work. This current collection, titled "Muse" was

causing quite a sensation for its stark, unyielding study of a single subject, an approach that was

unusual for Conlan.

April Nardini could care less about Harper Holden Conlan but was savvy enough to know

that a report on a historic exhibition such as his could erase the only "B" that had ever graced her

report card. A mandatory fine arts class was not going to sully her perfect grade point average

if she could help it. Through the grace of God and Ebay, April scored two tickets to the exhibit.

After presenting her mother with her carefully thought out plan to extricate the only stain on her

academic history, ( along with some wheedling, nagging and sobbing on April's part) she found

herself winging her way to Hartford.

Two days after her arrival, April and her father were standing in line outside of the

Boston Museum of Art. Both were fairly skeptical about the excitement of the people around

them. It was not as if this was the World Series or a lecture by Nobel prize winning biologist

David Baltimore. However, April was on a mission and her father was more than willing to go

along for the ride.

The doors to the exhibit finally opened and the crowd silently entered the gallery. Noting

the reverential atmosphere that enveloped the large gathering, April shot her father a quizzical

glance. He shrugged, rolled his eyes and adjusted his hat. They entered a large hall filled with

tall black and white photographs gracing the black walls. April pulled out her notebook from

her purse and dug around for a pen. Her father was reading the information packet and pointed

to what was considered the beginning of the exhibit.

The first triptych of photos were only of a woman's eyes. The first seemed to catch its

subject warding off a spasm of pain. Her eyes are clamped shut, the fingers of one hand are

raking back her hair, her face is a study of lost control.

In the second picture the eyes are open, angry. The tears pooling in the orbs add a glassy

almost otherworldly look. It is rather remarkable that the black and white photo could not mute

what appears to be an icy blueness emanating from the subject's irises. The woman is staring

at the camera with unflinching disgust.

The third picture offers little relief. It depicts the subject in a state of surrender to what-

ever is haunting her. She is staring off to the right, completely able to transmit a feeling of utter

defeat with just part of her face revealed to the camera.

The gathering of people viewing these first photographs were completely swept away by

the sheer power of Conlan's work and were eager to view the rest of the exhibit. There were

fears among Conlan's staunchest fans that perhaps the master had lost his touch, that his

collection would seem dated and lacking. On the contrary, in this assemblage Conlan appears to

push his vision into a completely different dynamic, fueled by the presence of a mysterious

creature he refers to as "Tess".

April Nardini has to lead her father to the nearest bench and helps him sit down. His

incapacitation frightens her and she is at a loss of what to do for him. His shoulders are shaking

and to her horror she believes he is trying to hold back a gut wrenching sob. Her usually taciturn

father is close to losing it in public and April is fighting off waves of guilt and embarrassment.

Luke Danes had not seen his ex- fiancee in two years. Never in his wildest dreams did

he think he would see her again, let alone as the subject of a photo exhibit in Boston.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Two Years. Two years since Luke stubbornly watched Lorelai storm away from

him. Little did he realize that she was leaving her life as well as his own.

He heard the sirens later that night but he did not think they had anything to do with his

fiancee. Luke really didn't think about her at all. He figured she would simmer down and come

her senses about the ultimatum she hurled at him. Looking back, Luke wondered at which point

in those last few months he decided to live his life like a parody of everything he ever believed

in or stood for.

The smell of smoke finally drove him out of the diner and out to the street. In his heart,

Luke knew exactly where the source of the commotion would be. And truthfully, he hoped that

whatever outrageous stunt Lorelai pulled, the news of it would not get back to a certain hard

hearted woman in Woodbury. Because that was the kind of man he had become.

Luke figured that he would find out what happened tomorrow. Since he hadn't heard the

ambulance horn, he talked himself into believing that Lorelai was all right and that it was some

kind of goofy cooking/sparkler/candle incident that she would sheepishly tell him about in the

morning.

Babette Dell's version of that night was, oddly enough, the most precise. She was very

worried about her friend, ever since Lane and Zack's wedding. She vehemently disagreed with

Patty about the "Endless Love" story that she put out because Babette wanted Luke to" get a

frickin' clueཀ" Babette looked beyond the fake smiles and the banal chatter and saw a severely

despondent woman. So she wasn't surprised that evening when she saw Lorelai walk dejectedly

into her house. What happened next came as a total shock.

Lorelai came out of her house with her arms loaded with magazines and stationery. She

proceeded to pile these around the chuppah located in the side yard. She then headed to the

garage, opened the doors and returned to the chuppah with a gas can. Lorelai was described by

her neighbor pouring the contents of the can on the mound of bridal magazines and wedding

invitations as nonchalantly as if she " was waterin' daisies." Lorelai walked into her house one

final time. She appeared on her front porch with her purse and garment bag on her shoulder, one

hand clutching her leashed dog and the other hand holding was looked like a filled wineglass.

Lorelai then walked over to her jeep, opened the back door and loaded an extremely nervous Paul

Anka. Throwing her purse into the front seat, she dragged the garment bag over to the chuppah

and carefully placed her wineglass on the ground. She unzipped the garment bag and hung her

wedding dress on the chuppah. Lorelai reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of matches.

She struck a match and placed it on the gas soaked pile of wedding debris and stepped back as the

flames greedily devoured the papers.

According to Babette, her neighbor picked up her glass, raised it in a mock salute, drank

and threw the glass into the fire. She then strode over to the jeep, took one last look at the

wedding pyre and drove away. As the flames began to lick at the wedding gown, Babette thought

it seemed as if Lorelai was burning herself in effigy.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Did you ever love her, really?"

Luke rolled over with a groan, unable to dodge neither the rather inappropriate question nor the finger persistently poking him in the back. The finger belonged to his off again, on again first love, Rachel. Rachel, who (rather nobly, in her mind) stepped aside years earlier so Luke could make his feelings known to Lorelai Gilmore. Rachel, who once again wooed the lonely diner owner back to her bed (OK, it was his bed, actually) but with a different agenda in mind.

Rachel made her way back to Stars Hollow after she saw the "Muse" exhibit in London. Harper Holden Conlan had been her inspiration, her reason for pursuing photography as her career, her dream. She even went so far as to camp out for six days outside of his Austin ranch in hope of meeting her hero. Instead, she was quietly ushered away by a bored looking housekeeper wielding an old hunting rifle and a bright red bouffant up do. Rachel begged the woman to let her meet her idol, almost arrogantly proclaiming that the housekeeper was standing in the way of an encounter of epic proportions.

At that, the woman laughed heartily, cocked her gun and told the star struck admirer that Mr. Conlan would have to survive the massive disappointment of missing such a "like minded artiste."

Needless to say, she didn't get to meet him.

So, years later, a very stunned Rachel crept through the London opening of Conlan's master work, struck by the sheer genius of her personal icon and by the fact he in turn was inspired to pick up a camera after decades by…..Lorelai Gilmore?

"Come on, Luke," Rachel needled, fueled by her growing frustration with the somewhat lackluster sex and by the fact that her ex and the brilliant Conlan were enchanted by the same lissome brunette.

Luke shifted so he could face the woman reclining on what would be in his mind "her" side of his bed and said,

"No."

"This coming from a man who keeps a very, worn book of exhibit photographs in his closet. I know, I know. April used it for her research but why didn't she take it home? Wasn't it rather difficult to peruse the book from New Mexico?"

Rachel's voice took on an icy tone as she continued baiting Luke. Luke, for his part eased out of the bed and pulled on a nearby pair of jeans. He leaned against the bureau at the end of the bed and patiently waited for her to finish her diatribe.

"Tell me, Luke. What did you think of the mermaid series? Unbelievably sensual, were they not? I had read that they were inspired by the fact that Lorelai had pulled one of Conlan's grandsons from a riptide, saving his life. She refused to give the EMTs her name but the little boy was so obsessed by the "mermaid" that saved his life that Conlan himself tracked her down. Of course, a story like that could sell a lot of tickets so who knows?"

Luke's stomach churned as he listened to the bitter woman who was holding court in his bed. His loneliness cost him a few indignities, such as the constant gossip and the denigration of his emotional and mental facilities. However, he dumbly thought that seeking comfort from his first love would be somewhat healing, at the very least, nostalgic. It turned out to be nether one.

Rachel's rant took on an even uglier tone.

"I also had heard that she was on the beach that evening because she was planning to take her own life. She had letters written, the dog given to a new home, the whole nine yards. I've got to hand it to Lorelai. I mean, honestly! How many people go from being an interrupted suicide to being the savior of the art world? How co….."

Luke angrily grabbed the surprised woman by the arm and hurled her towards the bathroom, her back slamming against the door. He then scooped up her clothes from the floor and threw them at her feet. As he approached her Rachel cowered against the door, fearing a physical blow. Instead, Luke stood in front of her, his face red with rage. He handed her his cell phone and looked at her for what he hoped would be the last time.

"Don't you have a plane to catch?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The old man walked out to the front porch, hat in hand and impatience tugging at his gut.

He knows he surprised her, laying it all out like that. It was the only way he could gauge what she really thought of his proposal.

Harper Conlan stared fixedly out past the corral, knowing without looking which horse she took for her early morning ride. His.

The barely broken stallion, as ill tempered as he was resplendent, developed a grudging tolerance for the blue eyed woman with the gentle hands and the hair that did not taste as good as it smelled. It amazed the old man (and everyone else) that she did not fear the animal. She was so fragile when she first arrived at the ranch.

Harper sighed and looked down at the hat he held in his hands. It was so worn that it seemed to be held together by dirt and sweat. It was the last hat his wife bought him before she died years ago. Lorelai wanted to buy him a new one last Christmas. When he tried to explain why he couldn't give up the old eyesore, she brought two fingers to his lips to silence him. That's how it was between them, almost from the very beginning of their relationship. There was an eerie intuitiveness between them that he learned to appreciate. It was difficult for him, after so many years of suppressing the anguish of loss that seemed to define the last decades of his life. As damaged as she was when they first encountered each other, she somehow sensed that he had buried what was left of Harper Holden Conlan with his long dead wife.

The old man, unable to conjure Lorelai and his horse by glaring at the sun, put on his hat and walked over to the stables. He was greeted by some half hearted whinnies and snorts as he began guiding the horses to the open pasture and fresh water.

---------------------------Summer, 2006----------------------------------

"Will she ever wake up, Maggie?"

"If my infamous chorizo/pepper jack huevos rancheros don't get her movin', nothing will."

"Do mermaids eat huevos rancheros?"

"I have a good feeling that this one will."

"I'll take her tray to her, Maggie. Please? Please?"

Maggie took the tray off the counter and walked over to the pensive six year old boy. She stopped in front of him and handed him the tray. He took a deep breath and waited for his instructions.

"Now, don't be upset if she doesn't open her door, OK? Grandpa says she's kind of skittish, still."

"Because of those people who came and tried to make her leave? That lady that kept yelling and that

man with little girl who kept throwing rocks at the dogs?"

"Those very ones. Any more visits like that and we'll be back at the drawing board with our friend in there."

"I'll be careful, I promise. I hated that girl. She's not Lorelai's girl, is she?"

"No, Lord, no! Lorelai's daughter has yet to make an appearance. Now, get going before the food gets cold. If she doesn't open her door, just leave the tray on the side table."

"I've got a new joke to tell her and a new piano song to play for her, but only if she eats her eggs."

Maggie gently put her hands on either side of the boy's freckled face. She grinned at the serious little boy as he rolled his eyes at her.

"If she doesn't get up for that, Lucas, we might have to throw her back."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The old man leaned against the corral fence, arms across his chest, waiting.

Harper remembered how he felt when first saw her with his horse,_ his horse. _

He was slightly astounded (and ashamed) that the first thing that he did was head back to the house and hunt for his camera. He hadn't touched it in years and now his hands shook like a bridegroom's as he rummaged around his office trying to ferret out a roll of film from what appeared to be drawer of crap. Cursing, he emerged from the house just in time to run right smack into Lorelai. He stumbled back and she landed flat on her ass. Cursing some more, he offered her a hand and yanked her to her feet. She studied him for a minute.

"What's his name?"

"The horse? Rio De La Noche. Rio, for short."

"He's beautiful."

"He's cantankerous and as belligerent as they come."

It was then that Harper finally saw her smile. Her eyes unclouded and the grin escaped her unbidden, practically to her own surprise.

"We'll get along just fine."

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What felt like a spark of electricity flashed up the old man's spine and then he saw them. Two creatures that learned to move as one. From this distance, he couldn't tell her mane from the horses. She was riding bareback and the horse galloped with an abandon that would have put the wild mustangs to shame. As they neared the corral, the horse slowed reluctantly. She bent down and whispered something into his ear and he snorted. They trotted over to Harper and he helped her down. Harper took the reins and led Rio into the corral. He hollered towards the stable and two hands, Buck and Tinos, took the horse in for a rubdown.

Harper took stock of the woman standing in front of him. At forty years old, she could easily pass for ten years younger in spite of the few slivers of silver that hid in her jet curls. She stood with her hands on her hips wearing her beloved black cowboy boots decorated with red roses and tiny butterflies that she just had to have from a shop in Austin. Even covered with dust and smelling like sweat, horse and of all things, mango, she could stop traffic with her smile and a swing of her hips.

But best of all, she looked content. To Harper, after all they had gone through together in a scant amount of time that alone meant the world to him.

"Answer me, Woman. I'm aging here."

Lorelai clasped her hands behind her neck and leveled her gaze at him. At the age of seventy six, he cut a striking figure. His eyes were the color of river ice and they contrasted with warm weathered brown of his skin. The worn, arthritic hands that could calm an angry stallion (or an angry, defeated woman) could easily create a magnum opus with the click of a camera. In a bizarre turn of events that would have had Nostradamus' head spinning, he saved her life. Little did he know how far she would truly go for this man.

Even back to Stars Hollow, if need be.

"Lorelai?"

" I will go back to Stars Hollow. I will take the boys with me as their legal guardian, soon to be mother. But Harper, as soon as it gets bad…you have got to promise me…I have to come back."

He rolls his eyes at her and for a second she can see Lucas and maybe a smidge of Rafe. She surprises him by grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him slightly. He has no words for her and he nods, his eyes giving up the tiniest bit of fear that he usually keeps to himself.

"This would be so much easier if you would just let me be Anna Nicole to….your ancient rich dude."

"I am not ancient, rich or hard up."

"Dirty!"

"Jesus, Lorelai! Just once could you pull your head out of your ass and take me seriously?"

"You're welcome, Harper."

Cowboys invaded Stars Hollow early in the summer of 2008. They came in all ages, sizes and colors. Miss Patty thought she had died and gone to heaven. Taylor Doose spent his waking hours in a state of barely contained fury. These "uncouth invaders" managed to slip through every roadblock and legality that he could come up with. He held many a town meeting trying to inflame the towns' people against these easygoing newcomers who seemingly managed to stay two steps ahead of Taylor, always presenting him with the proper permit or license even before he thought of it.

The cowboys were a closed lipped bunch. All Taylor knew about their presence was that they were hired to build a home just within the town lines. It was to be built on a prime piece of property, a few acres, some wooded, with a pond. All of the business dealings were done through a New York City law firm and it aggravated Taylor to no end that he truly had no idea who bought the land. Kirk was dispatched to spy on the goings on but was met with a shotgun and a friendly warning.

Luke Danes was surprised at himself that he , too, was a little curious about the cowboys and their project. April was practically buzzing with anticipation and would listen to any one who had a morsel of news. Luke thought that she was a little more interested in the young men striding in and out of the stores and eateries than in the actual building itself but after all she was a normal teen aged girl. It was lot easier to tease her about the "hot" cowboys rather than pretend to understand her ramblings about cloning or whatever she was reading about at the time.

It was a comment that Gypsy made during the dinner rush that made strange fluttering in his chest. He was ringing up a customer when he heard Zack mention to Gypsy that he saw her talking to the foreman of the project, a burly man with lolling Cajun accent and forearms that might as well had been tattooed with anchors.

"…so I asked him if it was a Victorian, or maybe a plantation style because it was killin' me, you know and he's got the greatest laugh and he says right now it's a cross between a tree house and Frank Lloyd Wright and I said the plane guys…….."

Maybe it was the full moon. Maybe it was because the flutter steadied itself into a comfortable purr as Luke walked to the building site later that evening. Maybe it was because he was happy not to be numb and going through the motions as has been his life for the last few years.

Why did this house look and feel so familiar to him?


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Bobby Ste. Claire missed his wife. He missed how the steamy delta air would frizz her wavy blonde hair and he missed their morning coffee on the lanai and he missed …

Hell, he just missed her.

But, the house was on schedule. The work crew was one of the best he ever had the chance to oversee. The weather gods were cooperating with them on this project. The weather gods owed them after Katrina. Connecticut had its pluses.

He just couldn't wait to get home.

Bobby was walking down the street towards Luke's diner. He figured he owed him an appearance since he hadn't been in for a week or so. He and the diner owner were involved in a friendly standoff of sorts. For some reason that Bobby could not fathom, Luke became a regular fixture at the work site. He was initially alerted to Luke's presence by one of his workers, who noticed the man sitting out by the trees on the west side of the construction site. Bobby recognized the flannel shirt and the ball cap and waved, figuring that the silent man was just giving in to a bout of curiosity. The man waved back, but did not budge from his viewing post. Soon, he began showing up like clockwork, at quarter till' five every morning and at eight o'clock every evening. The cowboys and Bobby tolerated Luke's visits because he never approached the worksite, choosing to observe from a distance. Luke's diner was also a favorite place for the men to whet their appetites and the proprietor was friendly enough. He never interrogated them like many in that whacky little town and the cowboys appreciated that their meals could be consumed in relative peace.

The diner was dead. Summer heat made captives of the locals and it didn't lure the tourists to town, either. Luke stood behind the counter, talking on the phone while he endlessly rubbed down the counter with a damp rag. As Bobby stepped through the door, he was acknowledged with a raised eyebrow and a shrug of the shoulders. These days, that was considered almost animated for the laconic diner owner. Usually, Bobby did not mind the silence, but on this particular evening, with him actually welcoming the heat and humidity because it reminded him of home and home was where his wife was and God how he missed her…this homesick Cajun was in the mood for conversation.

So as he tiredly lowered himself to a chair, Bobby was pleasantly surprised to look up and see Luke standing there with a tall glass of iced tea and a rather large slice of blueberry pie. He placed them on the table and proceeded to pull up a chair for himself.

Bobby sat up, flexed his arms and batted his eyes.

"Why, Mr. Danes! Are you tryin' to seduce me?"

Luke actually chuckled as he shook his head. Bobby was relieved that the guy had a sense of humor and he tucked into the juicy dessert. He shut his eyes and moaned softly as he began to chew. Luke stared at strapping foreman incredulously and wondered if some how he and his former fiancée were related.

"Ca c'est bon! Excellent pie, my man. You definitely have a gift."

"Keep moaning like that and you'll have Miss Patty parked in your lap."

"Good point."

Bobby sat back in his chair and studied the man in front of him. He wondered if tonight he could get a few answers out of his companion. Little did he know that Luke had a few questions for him, as well?

Luke stared at his hands folded in front of him. The purr that resided in his chest ever since the Cajun builder and his group of house building, barn raising cowboys showed up in Stars Hollow was beginning to die down and Luke couldn't let that happen. That purr was one of his "before" feelings, something he had felt quite regularly before his existence became a sick, cosmic joke. He knew that the house was almost finished and now he had to know who the new residents would be.

Who was he kidding? Deep down, he was praying it was Lorelai.

It had to be her. This house screamed Lorelai… and Luke.

This place was a wonderful, jumbled culmination of every thought, dream or sleepy idea that they would hatch together, snuggled together in the early morning hours…or as they drove through some random town, commenting on house color or yard size. As much as she did not want to give up her beloved Crap Shack, at some point, planning their own house became a habit for them.

A darker thought struck him. Would Lorelai build their dream house… and live there with that old man, the photographer who documented her pain and sorrow for the entire world to see?

Could Luke truly blame her if she made that choice?

A deep, liquid bass came rolling across the table, bringing him back to the present

"Luke! You're sittin' there like someone put a gris- gris on you! Come back to me, man."

Luke was gripping the edges of the table, his knuckles white with strain. Bobby was shaking him by the shoulders, concern clouding his southern tone.

"What the hell is a gris- gris?"

"It's a curse, man."

"That would be the best case scenario."

Bobby Ste. Claire sat back in his chair and took a big swig of warm ice tea. His own homesickness forgotten, he felt he had witnessed something that he wasn't supposed to see. A man's open wound, whether of the flesh, mind or heart, was never a thing to be treated lightly. Bobby's own compassionate nature was getting the best of him here and he decided that he was going to be there for Luke Danes.

He stood up and stretched. Scratched his head and grinned at the confused diner man.

"Luke, putting a gris-gris on someone is some serious shit in my neighborhood. So, we have to make you a counter gris-gris……like a good luck charm."

Luke stared at the man across from him. Every cell in his stubborn, stoic, unimaginative, flannel covered brain was screaming at him to tell Bobby thanks but no thanks, but…..

"What do I need to do?"

"Grab some personal stuff. Pictures, jewelry…..odds and ends….and a couple of small containers, bottles or tins."

"You've done this before?"

"Mais, of course! It helped me to find the love of my life! I'm not pullin' your chain here, man. Meet me at the work site in fifteen. I need to make a beer run."

Luke stood up, took off his ill fitting black ball cap and scratched his head.

His sister would be so proud of him.

Twenty minutes later, the two men were standing over a work table set up in the backyard of the house. The site was completely quiet for a change since Bobby gave the crew the weekend off. Beers were opened and the contents of a shoe box were laid across the table. Bobby picked up a ring box and examined it.

"Tell me about the woman. Did she hurt you? Do you want vengeance?"

"No! Nothing like that! We hurt each other, but I hurt her worse, so much worse!"

Luke was breathing hard and beads of sweat were sliding down his neck. He was getting all worked up and the beer, the heat and the memories were causing his head to hurt and his stomach to roil.

"Easy, Luke, easy. We're going to fix you up, but I need you to take some deep breaths. OK?"

Luke shut his eyes and took a sip of his beer. Bobby squinted his eyes and looked up at the diamonds and velvet that made up the Connecticut sky.

"What do you want to bring about here, Luke? Do you want her back?"

Luke shook his head sadly. He walked away from the table and drank from his bottle. Then he began to pace. Pacing always leads to ranting. And, Luke's rants were usually entertaining.

"Yes, yes I want her back! But that's not what she needs….that would not be the best for her! We were never meant to be…all the signs were there…her parents think I'm white trash…and then there's Christopher! That asshole! Yeah, well…I'm an asshole too! I used to think that I wasn't good enough for her and yet I could be the only one to make her happy….But you know what, I used to tear her down, make cracks about being a mom at sixteen, called her a cartoon character, made her believe that she wasn't good enough to be around my kid…Oh, and listen to this, I didn't tell her I even had a kid for two months after I found out! I didn't even have the balls to tell her…she met April by mistake! I lied to her after I made her promise not to lie to me!"

Luke slowed down, not realizing the tears running down his whiskered face. He turned to face a wide eyed Bobby Ste. Claire.

"I used to think that the good, happy part of my brain atrophied after the deaths of my parents and then my whacked out sister and my runaway girlfriend delivered the deathblow. Now I know. I didn't want to work that hard. It was easier to grieve and bitch and push away. I am what I am. The kind of man that marries someone while totally in love with someone else…. The kind of man that a woman can't come to when she discovers she's pregnant with his kid…The kind of man that lets his woman fall to pieces in front of him and doesn't even bother to go after her because it might interfere with his screwed up visitation…the kind of scum that makes death look like an option…"

"So, unless you've got some pull with the Vatican…..I 'm pretty sure I'm a lost cause."

"Mais, so you've got a few personality disorders…we may need more beer than I thought."

Luke Danes was dumbfounded…and exhausted. He walked over to the table and leaned against it for support. His Cajun friend seemed even more determined to rid him of his pain. Bobby picked up an empty cologne bottle, twisted of the cap and took a sniff.

"Ah, this will do. She bought this for you, yes? Put in the things that remind would remind her of you. The items must be numbered one, three, five, seven or thirteen."

Luke picked up the sapphire colored stone from a broken earring and slid it through the bottle's opening. He bought her those earrings at an art fair in Litchfield and Lorelai couldn't make up her mind if the stones resembled her eyes or his eyes more. He poured in a small amount of coffee from a tin that she used to carry in her purse. Luke then pulled off a button from the flannel he was wearing and shoved it into bottle. Bobby reached over and carefully cut off some of Luke's chest hair with a pocket knife.

"Hey! What the hell, Bobby?"

"That's powerful, man. Now, gently blow into the bottle."

"Dirty!"

Luke couldn't help but smile. He took the bottle from Bobby, gently blew into it and sealed the cap tight. Bobby took the bottle, shut his eyes and mumbled a few words into the humid night. He then set the bottle down on the table and looked at his friend.

"Bury this in a place that was special to both of you. You needed to empty the ugly, Luke. Give your woman back her good memories…you could use some, too."

"Anything else, Dr. Phil?"

"There are two sides to every story. And, stop being such an asshole."

After a few more beers, Luke left his new friend/voodoo shaman and walked toward his new charm's destination. In a matter of minutes he was standing in front of the Crapshack.

It had been a while since he had visited Lorelai's old house. After she burned down the chuppah, Luke let Rory deal with the aftermath. He was too afraid that the news that his mentally unbalanced fiancée tried to burn everything that reminded her of him would not help him in his losing battle to see his daughter. He was such a coward. Even his sister was ashamed of him. When he tried to explain his reasoning for what he did, she told him that the next time he went to Woodbury, he should ask Anna pretty please, can he have his balls back sometime soon?

The scorch marks left by the fire took awhile to disappear. The house was empty. The Gilmores paid for the house's upkeep. They initially wanted to sell the place but Rory wouldn't hear of it. Lane mentioned to him that during her rare visits to Stars Hollow, Rory would go and check on the house, but with her mother's continued absence, even that was getting too difficult for her to do.

Luke made his way through the neatly manicured front yard and stood before the porch steps. He bent down and picked up a chipped ceramic turtle. He checked for the key out of habit, but it was gone. He then bent down and dug a hole in the soft dirt with the heel of his shoe. He pulled the charm out of his back pocket, gave it a kiss and placed it in the hole. Covering the hole with dirt and topping it with the turtle, Luke stood up, stretched and made his way home.

Before he went to bed, Luke did another thing that would make his sister proud. He took an old empty tin that used to hold chocolate macadamia flavored coffee. When Luke pried open the lid, the coffees rich fragrance wafted up to his nose. He smiled remembering that Lorelai had stated that a cup of that particular coffee and a piece of cheesecake could be considered foreplay in her book. He placed a piece of Big Red gum, a bracelet that was filled with "diner" charms (miniature coffee cups, a spatula, coffee pot, etc...), a picture of the two of them at Miss Patty's birthday party (his face is buried in her hair, she is grinning suggestively), and last but not least, a tube of cherry pie lip-gloss into the tin and carefully wedged the lid on.

Luke carefully placed the charm under his bed, directly where his head would lie. He then laid down on the comforter, shut his eyes and hoped to dream about a girl.


	6. Chapter 6

I was disappearing before their very eyes, yet no one had a clue.

Sookie would barely glance at me over an ever increasing mound of chopped celery, rutabaga, whatever….and repeat in her very best friend voice "…you two were made for each other…just give him a little more time…he'll come around…"

Miss Patty could literally blow cigarette smoke right through me as she tried to shore up my dwindling hopes "…now Darling…Its just cold feet…don't be too hard on him…"

My own Rory, well, I had been nothing but a faded animation to her by then, a cartoon character.

No. Scratch that. My beloved called me a cartoon character.

Stasis rotted the inside of me. I could feel it sucking out marrow from my bones. My brain felt thick inside my skull. I was moldering away like vegetable that I had become.

Bad daughter. Bad mommy. Bad example.

I was so tired.

**************************************************

I had tied up my loose ends. I wrote my letters. I took off my shoes.

The ocean does not beckon. It does not want extra baggage. The icy, roiling waves do not welcome you into its depths.

I didn't care. I was practically a ghost, anyway. I would not be a burden.

I started walking.

******************************************************

KIDNAPPED BOY SAVED FROM DROWNING BY GOOD SAMARITAN

(AP) The kidnapped grandson of photography legend Harper Holden Conlan is in stable condition after being saved by an unknown woman at Montgomery Beach outside of Boston, Massachusetts. The body of the boy's mother, Andrea Androtte Conlan, was discovered by local fishermen three days after the incident.

This is the final chapter of a saga that had spread over five years, beginning with the death of Conlan's only child, son Jameson Abernathy Conlan, aged thirty six, the victim of an car accident involving a drunk driver. The death of her husband sent the recently diagnosed manic depressive wife and mother into a psychotic tailspin and she left sons Raphael and Lucas, aged five and one, with their grandfather. Andrea Conlan disappeared for three years, living in various halfway houses and mental health facilities across the country. In April of 2004, Andrea smashed into the car of Maggie Abernathy, caretaker of Harper Conlan's Texas ranch, grabbed the two boys who were seated in the vehicle and vanished.

Harper Holden Conlan, who all but disappeared from the art world after the death of his beloved wife, Lucinda and then the untimely death of his son, wearily had to face the public and plead for help to find his grandchildren. That help came recently in the form of a tip from a farmer who noticed the addition of two children at an ashram that was located next to his farm in rural eastern Massachusetts. Worried about the thin, disheveled kids, the farmer, who wanted to remain anonymous, informed the county sheriff. A check made to a missing child database as well as a call to the FBI confirmed whom the children may be and arrest warrants were issued. Police were able to rescue Raphael, now age nine, from the secluded old barn that housed the Most Holy Way community, a religious group who took in Andrea Conlan and her sons. Andrea and son Lucas were unaccounted for, although she had told one of the members that it was time for Lucas to see his dad.

When young Raphael was questioned on the whereabouts of his mother and brother, he replied that he thought they were going to the beach because that was his brother's favorite place. After a massive, coastal search, police were alerted to Montgomery Beach, where an eyewitness noted a woman half dragging what appeared to be a crying child along the beach's edge. The witness tried to warn the woman about the riptides but it was too late, mother and child seemingly let themselves get swept out to sea. The witness, an elderly man in his seventies, went to get help while a woman ("Tall, slender, looked like a movie star or a news anchor…") loped by him and dove into the freezing water. According to the man:

"It was horrible! Sometimes I could see their heads bobbing in the water but most of the time they were swallowed up in the waves. I couldn't hear the screams anymore and I thought they were goners. I was glad that cops finally showed up because they got to see it for themselves…this figure rises out of the waves and literally crawls out of the sea…it was the woman who ran by me and she had that little guy on her back!"

_*******************************************************************************_

_I woke up a few days later in a hospital bed being studied by a man sitting in a chair holding the letters that I had left at the beach. His gray eyes were flecked with gold and he watched me with an intensity that I hadn't felt in quite a while. _

_I tried to talk but my voice wouldn't work. Every inch of me ached and I felt feverish. The man, who had to be around my dad's age, reached over and placed his hand lightly on my forehead, checking my temperature, I guess. He moved his hand and took a deep breath._

"_I read your letters. They are the main reason why I have not contacted your family. I figured that if I called them, sooner or later you would wind up at another beach, and there wouldn't be anything to distract you from completing your goal."_

_I must have flinched, because he took my hand and held it tight._

"_My name is Harper and that was my youngest grandson that you saved. He is doing as good as can be expected. He keeps asking about the mermaid…I'm guessing that's you…and wants to know if he can see her again."_

"_He's worried about you…this little bugger has been living like Hell on Earth for the last few years and the first thing he says to me is can I keep the mermaid safe."_

_I can vaguely recall the little boy, but my mind is bleary. He held on to me so tightly I remember being a little surprised when it took three sets of hands to pry him off of me at the beach._

_Harper stood up, releasing my hand and holding up my good bye letters before my face. His eyes hardened and his voice became gruff._

"_What I want you to think about, Lorelai, is whether you still need these letters or if you will allow me to keep the mermaid safe?"_

_I took the deepest breath that my body would allow and tried to shoot him an exasperated/what the f kind of look. Harper chuckled and whispered into my ear._

"_Now behave and I'll try real hard to get that male nurse who looks like George Costanza to give you a sponge bath."_

_Are you kidding? He's offering to save my screwed up existence and he ends it by doing a bit with me?_

_If he wasn't older than dirt I would be professing my love._

***********************************************************

It was a slightly different Lorelai Gilmore that was heading back to Stars Hollow in the early fall of 2008. For one thing, she was not alone. She had her two boys in tow, plus Harper's twenty six year old nephew, Ethan and Maggie Abernathy who came along to help them settle into their new digs. Ethan was an artist (a muralist) who was between projects and Maggie basically ran Harper's household in Texas.

For the most part, Lorelai felt satisfied. Her mind was clear and she definitely had her spunk back. She had a different middle now and she felt grateful for it. When her mother called out of the blue and announced that Lorelai had been removed from being executor of their will and of their other financial holdings due to her "mental instability" and then in the next breath demanded to meet the children that "that man had saddled her with," Lorelai took a deep breath and wished for a margarita. Then she told Emily that she agreed with their decision and that she would have really think about when she could meet her sons because they were not Gilmores, after all, and therefore would not have to put up with the scrutiny, criticism, etc….that she knew would come their way. Yeah, she would get back with her on that particular subject on a later date.

Rory Gilmore was beside herself with happiness at the thought of her mom moving back to Stars Hollow. The guilt and confusion that she wrestled with about her relationship with Lorelai made Rory take a good, long look at her life so far and the people that were important to her. Of course, long, frank talks with her mom, while not always pleasant, opened up her eyes to many things. Lorelai was direct, pulled no punches, and most surprisingly, had a remarkable lack of self pity. She did not expect Rory to condone this next stage of her life, but she definitely wanted her to be part of it. The boys, Rafe and Lucas ("Lucas," thought Rory, "Coincidence? My gut tells me no") were shy around her but considering what they had been through, she was amazed that they could function at all.

Rory was still trying to process the last two years of her mother's life and there was always one lingering thought. If Lorelai hadn't gotten pregnant so young, what could she had achieved? In two years she saved a child from being drowned by his own mother, resurrected an aging legend's photographic glory and somewhat restored her own destroyed psyche. The woman who would beg strangers from the street to kill a spider in her kitchen saved Lucas' baby goat from a rattlesnake and endured a bite for her trouble. George Clooney fell in love with her photographic image and invited her to his home in Como, Italy. She declined because he was enamored with "Tess" and not the woman who could live happily on coffee, chicken fried steak and the occasional Cop Rock marathon. Clooney did, however autograph her ER night shirt. Lorelai thanked him with a French kiss that made him weak in the knees. U2 pulled her on stage to dance with them in Berlin. Larry McMurtry called occasionally and asked to visit her and the boys once they got all moved in. Stella McCartney mailed her vegan recipes and Lorelai sent her a giant hamburger cookie (made with organic ingredients, of course.) Betsey Johnson sent her sketch ideas. Mark Brunetz emailed her with design ideas for her bedroom. When Rory would ask her about these things, Lorelai would shake her head and frown.

"Sweets, what have I always told you? I wouldn't change a thing about how my life has progressed so far. Not a damn thing, not you, not Stars Hollow, not a thing! And if I overstep my bounds and accidentally kiss the hell out of George Clooney, so be it. Please, please tell me you would have done the same thing!"

"Minus the hair flip, of course."

"If I had executed the hair flip, handsome George would have given up acting to be my new stable boy."

******************************************************

What Lorelai could not tell her daughter was that although she felt good about being back in the Hollow, she also felt fairly weirded out. At first, she thought it was normal to be dreaming about her ex-fiancé since she was back in town. But, since the dreams were becoming more and more sexual, she could hardly make herself go to bed at night. It's not like she hadn't thought about Luke over the past two years, she just knew deep down she would not get better if she dwelled on him. Living with two young boys who lost their parents gave Lorelai more insight into Luke's behavior. However, understanding the actions of the man who claimed to love her did not compel l Lorelai to seek him out and wave the white flag. Luke's treatment of her did not cause her breakdown but it sure added fuel to the flames. She would never let anyone treat her as less than human ever again.

Now, if she could figure out why her bed sheets smell like Irish Spring, peppermint and diner grease…even after multiple washings. Or why her coffee tastes as if fresh nutmeg had been brewed in…and the grounds came straight from the Folgers's can. Or why she can look out her bed room window late at night and she can make out a figure of a man standing near the far field…and that figure seems content to wait her out.


End file.
